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Dublin has been on my bucket list so long it had cobwebs on it. But the moment the plane wheels kissed Irish soil, it felt like the start of something…electric. Dublin Airport was eerily empty, which only added to the surreal excitement. While waiting for Sarah and Michael, who were fashionably late, I celebrated touchdown with a half-pint of Guinness-because when in Ireland, right?
We hugged our hellos, I hopped on a bus with Sarah to The Fleet Hotel, and watched Dublin roll by as she pointed out landmarks like a very enthusiastic local tour guide who also happens to be your friend.
And there it was: my first day back behind the camera after eight months. The city felt like it had been waiting for me to press the shutter again. We checked in, freshened up, and kicked things off at The Blind Pig, a speakeasy hidden behind clues and misdirection (and almost ruined by a man who simply opened the wrong door). But the mood was perfect-Prohibition chic, dim lights, whispered stories. Then on to Mulligan’s, where I had my first Proper Guinness in a proper Irish pub.
Photo highlight? A lone regular who looked like he had grown there. Guinness tasted like it had roots.